


Poison Paradise

by DachOsmin



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alley Sex, Angst, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mistaken Identity, POV First Person, Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/pseuds/DachOsmin
Summary: While dealing with the unwelcome urges of the Winter Mantle, Harry runs into Thomas at a local nightclub.Thomas doesn’t recognize him.





	Poison Paradise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).

It was the weekend before Halloween, the weight of the winter mantle was heavy on my shoulders, and I was still coming to terms with the fact that I was now pretty much indistinguishable from the monsters I’d spent my life hunting. To be honest, I wasn’t taking it very well. There was a lot of alcohol involved, and very little sleep. I hadn’t showered in a while. I’d stopped answering the phone, even though lots of people were calling: Murphy and Molly and Michael and Thomas.

I thought about answering when Thomas called. He’d have understood. He’d been where I was now, so to speak. But if I talked to him I’d have to face what I’d done: I’d killed myself rather than be like him. I’d hired an honest-to-god sniper to blow my head to bits and left Thomas to find the mess on the deck of his own damn boat. All to avoid living as a monster, like Thomas did. Joke’s on me, because here I was, alive and saddled with not only evil urges but also a ruined relationship with pretty much the only blood family I had left in this world.

Sitting in my apartment quickly became stifling. I left just after ten, hurrying down the block with my hands jammed in my pockets and no fixed destination in mind.

The streets weren’t all that crowded even though it was a Saturday night; a passel of nasty weather had come down over the lakes and reasonable people were responding by staying bundled up at home. Of course I didn’t have a problem with the cold anymore. I’d left my duster at home and was walking around in a thin t-shirt; I should have been halfway frozen the second I stepped outside. But instead the cold made my blood sing; every gust of icy wind felt like a caress or a love letter straight from the heart of Winter.

I hated it.

After a few blocks of wandering I came across a nightclub that was, as the youths say, “hopping.” A chalkboard sign set up by the entrance proclaimed that today was “Maskerade Nite,” and listed an assortment of rail drinks at prices that were apparently supposed to be deals but still seemed like highway robbery to me. Then again, I didn’t usually come to this kind of place. There was a line of people waiting to get their IDs checked, all of them younger and prettier and more nicely dressed than I was. A bunch of them had masks on: the guys seemed to go for animals or politicians, and the girls seemed to prefer sexy versions of the animals, but luckily not the politicians.

I found myself getting in line and wondered what exactly I thought I was doing. I had no idea what to do in a nightclub except light things on fire, and I hadn’t brought my staff. But there was something appealing about being anonymous in a crowd, and the cruel voice of the mantle whispered to me that there would be lots of dark places I could drag victims into. I told that part of myself to shut the hell up. But still, I got in line.

The bouncer was diligently checking the IDs, but when I came to the front of the line he gave me one look and then waved me forward, and fuck but didn’t _that_ make me feel old.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Here,” he said, and jabbed a cheap black cardboard half-mask in my general direction. I took it and for want of anything better to do with it put it on. I didn’t really see what the point was; I was hardly going to see anyone I knew here, and if I did, there were going to be much bigger problems at hand than the lack of a mask.

After fixing the tie of the mask behind my head I took a few steps into the entryway and then stopped. See the thing was, I didn’t want to drink, I didn’t want to dance, and I certainly didn’t want to take anyone home. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Well, I _did, _which was the problem. Harry-the-predator wanted to prowl out onto the dance floor and do unspeakable things. Harry-the rest-of-him had no idea what to do with a dance floor, had made every effort to avoid dance floors since junior high.

“You’re blocking everybody, man,” someone behind me grumbled.

I stammered an apology and stumbled into the club. Fuck, but this was a bad idea.

It felt like a war zone, only with more spandex and glitter. The lights hit me first, strobes in eye-searing orange and ultraviolet- Halloween colors!- against the black, each flash illuminating a writhing mass of bodies. Then there were the sounds- the chattering roar of laughter and singing, underscored by the bone-rumbling bass of the music.

I found my way to a staircase and followed it to a balcony stuffed with rickety tables overlooking the dance floor. I parked myself in the darkest corner, settling into a folding chair way too small for me and leaning over the railing of the balcony so I could watch the dancers below writhe under the lights. Maybe watching would be enough.

A knot of people at the center of the dancing drew my eyes pretty quickly. Most of the people in the club were dancing with friends or lovers or were content to gyrate alone in the crush of the bodies. But then there were a bunch of people crowding around a single man in black, jostling and elbowing each other like they were competing for his attention. I figured he was probably selling drugs or something, since it wasn’t just the girls trying to get at him.

And then he turned around and I realized who it was.

He was masked just like everyone else, but I still recognized him immediately. Every little thing about him was just too perfect: the flash of white skin at his wrist and neck, the smooth taper of his waist, the roll of his shoulders as he walked, the way the lights of the dance floor caught in his curls. _Thomas_.

Watching him hunt was… something. I’d never seen him like this before, so utterly in his element. He moved across the dance floor like a fish through water, or maybe a shark. The dancers moved in currents around him, their hands and eyes trailing after him like a wake. They all wanted him: the men and the women, the dancers and the wallflowers and the drinkers at the bar, the couples and the people who had come alone. The lot of them, every last person, would have gone home with him for a smile.

Which was all well and good, if you glossed over the fact that he was a literal sex demon intent on draining the life force of his lovers. It didn’t matter how eager everyone looked to jump is bones; none of them knew what they were getting into, and even if they had, none of them would be able to resist the evil vampire pheromones he was coating the room with.

I watched him take a drink from a blushing blonde that couldn’t be more than twenty, and felt something unpleasant twist in my gut when he pressed a kiss to her hand in exchange.

I had to stop this.

It was peak hypocrisy of course- I’d been driven here by the same urges, the same need to fight and fuck and feast on the lifeblood of the innocent. We’d never been very different in temper, and these days we were similar in other, darker ways. Maybe that’s why I felt I had to do it: I had to prove I could still stop the darkness, I had to prove I could still say no.

I went back the way I had come and shoved myself through the crowd, garnering a lot of curses and dirty looks in the process. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey.”

He turned towards me, and even though I was prepared for him my breath still caught in my throat. The lines of his face peeking out from beneath the half mask were too perfect; it almost hurt to look at him. It’s probably kind of weird to think your own brother is the most beautiful man alive, but seeing as Thomas is a literal sex god I think I get a pass.

Cool eyes appraised me from behind the mask. “And who might you be?” he murmured, hips angling out to tempt me in.

I was bracing myself, but his words still hit me in the stomach. His voice was like honey; I could have listened to it for hours. “I, uh.” _Get it together, Harry. _“I’m Tom,” I said, and waited for the eye roll, the grumpy pout, the whining that I’d spoiled all his fun.

It didn’t come.

His lips curved into a slow smile; I watched as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet them. That was… wow. “Well, Tom. Would you like a drink?”

Stars and stones. He didn’t recognize me.

I swallowed, suddenly a bit breathless. “I- yeah. Okay.” This was good. Him talking to me meant him not preying on the other people in the club. He’d figure out it was me in a minute, and then we’d have a laugh and get pizza together and it would all be okay.

He smiled again and handed me the drink the blonde girl had just given him. When I reached to take it, his fingers brushed against mine, lingering for just a moment too long. I shivered. “Enjoy, Tom.”

I raised the glass to my lips and tilted it back. When I lowered it, he was watching me.

For some reason a bout of dizziness hit me; I stumbled a bit and he reached out to steady me. His hands felt very warm on my bare arms, the calluses of his fingertips a weight dragging over my biceps. “So, uh, what’s your name?” I asked, for lack of anything better to say.

“Thomas,” he said, reaching out to smooth the pad of his thumb across my cheek, catching the stubble against the grain. I shivered again. I felt very light, like every atom in my body was buzzing. It was a good feeling though. I liked it, realized I was leaning into his touch. I blinked, pulled away.

“You remind me of someone,” Thomas murmured.

“Uh huh,” I said. God, his eyes were amazing. “Who?”

Thomas shook his head like he was pushing away a daydream. “He wouldn’t come to a place like this.” He smiled suddenly, and his teeth were so, so white. “Grab a breath of fresh air with me?”

He led me and I went, god help me. I felt like a rag doll; he could have taken me anywhere and I would have gone. It felt so right, following him, it felt like the best kind of thing. All I could think about was the weight of his hand on my wrist.

A blast of cold air hit me and I realized we were in the alley behind the bar. I was suddenly up against the brick of the building and Thomas’s face was close. His skin was silver in the moonlight; his pupils were very dark.

I felt his thigh press between my legs and I couldn’t help the sound that broke from me. I was hard and aching in my jeans, when had that happened? God but I wanted him to touch me, I wanted it so bad. Thomas just smiled. “Oh, I will,” he crooned, breath hot against my neck. “I’m going to make you feel so, so good.”

Had I said that out loud? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. All that mattered was him: his eyes on me, his hands on me, the press of him against my cock. I felt clumsy, like I was underwater, but I managed to wrap my hands in the hem of his shirt and tug his head down to meet me.

And then we were kissing, really kissing.

And god, it was so good, it was everything I wanted and needed. My mouth opened wider to accommodate him, I pressed up into his body, needing the contact, needing the friction-

And then he was tensing all over and tearing away my mask and shoving me, hard. I was off balance; I stumbled and fell down onto my back. It was too much to move so I just laid there, drunk on the taste of him and achingly hard in my jeans.

“What the _fuck, _Harry?”

I scrabbled around for something to say. “What…?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he spat. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell when I tasted you?” He was a terrible silhouette in the moonlight, teeth bared like fangs, skin white as ice. “Was this some kind of prank?”

Thinking was hard but he seemed so angry; I didn’t want him to be angry. “Hell’s bell’s, Thomas-“

He moved in a blur, kicking the side of the building hard enough I heard a brick crack. “Thought you’d play a little game with me? Dumb fucking Thomas, feeding on his own brother, how fucking funny?”

“No-“

He deflated suddenly, ripped his own mask off and tossed it to the ground. “Empty Night, Harry, I could’ve hurt you. I could’ve killed you.” His voice sounded raw, like it hurt to speak. His eyes narrowed suddenly behind the mask. “Is that what you wanted, then? Was this the fucking boat all over again?”

I blinked and tried to focus. “God, no, Thomas, I just wanted-“

“What exactly,” he spat, “did you want?”

The moment hung between us. I was panting, my nerves on fire, a shaking mess on my back. He was white marble, inhuman and so, so beautiful.

When they came, the words were unbidden. “You,” I whispered. “I wanted you.”

I blinked, tasted the words in my mouth. I had no idea where they had come from, but-

-but-

-but they weren’t _wrong._

Thomas was frozen for a second, then he let out a bitter laugh. “You have no idea what you want.”

“No,” I mumbled, “I think I do.”

He snarled and reached down to grab me, picked me up like I weighed nothing at all and shoved me back against the wall of the alley. “You’re higher than a kite right now. I could tell you to go to your knees right now and blow me and you’d _thank _me for it.”

His words went straight to my cock and he was right, in that moment I needed to have my mouth on him, his hands twisted in my hair, his cock heavy on my tongue. But even still… It was hard to think when I was this turned on, but I did my damnedest. “You don’t understand,” I said. “I chose to come up to you. I saw you, I was looking at you, I watched when you flirted with that girl and I was mad, so mad-“

“Because I was flirting with someone.”

“Because you were flirting with someone _else_.”

He was opening his mouth to argue, to tell me I was wrong, to tell me I didn’t know what I was talking about- but I didn’t want to hear it. I lunged forward and caught his mouth in another kiss.

He pulled away and made a noise like it pained him. “Fuck, Harry, you don’t-“

“Tell me,” I said, high on the taste of him, “tell me you don’t fucking want me. Because I want you.”

“Really?” he bit out. “You want me to flip you around and fuck you senseless against a dumpster until you scream, where anyone could see?” I could tell he was holding on by a thread.

“Fuck, please,” I keened, my hips stuttering against his. “_Thomas_.”

The thread snapped. He surged forward and captured my mouth in his, and this time he didn’t hold himself back. His kisses were savage and bitter, like he hated that he loved them. He gave me no space to speak or kiss him back or even breathe; all I could do was close my eyes and open my mouth and feel him devour me. I was too dizzy to hold myself up; my head lolled back against the wall, and I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

“I can’t be the better man,” he snarled as we finally pulled apart. “Not tonight, not when you taste so fucking _good_.”

And before I could formulate a reply he was kissing me again: on my lips, my jaw, my neck, and each kiss went straight to my cock, now achingly hard in my jeans.

Thomas looked just as wrecked as I felt, at least. “Doing so good for me, Harry,” the murmured as he raked his nails down my bare arms, hard enough to break the skin. Still kissing me, he ripped my shirt off and then his fingers were spidering over my chest, nails scraping cruelly over my nipples, and all I could do was feel it.

My hands scrabbled for purchase. I wanted to touch him all over, to feel all of him. Every nerve in my body was lit up, and still it wasn’t enough. My hips stuttered, desperate for friction, but there was only empty air. It was hard to think and harder to form words, but I did my best. “Thomas,” I gasped, “please, I need-“

He pulled back, and there was a cruel and mocking turn to his mouth. “Tell me,” he purred, twisting one of my nipples between his fingertips. “Tell me what you need.”

I might have been crying, I couldn’t tell. “I need you, I need you to touch me, please, Thomas-“

He chuckled, low and heady against the side of my neck. “Touch you where?”

“God, Thomas, I can’t-“

He bit down hard on the side of my neck, hard enough to bruise, and I keened, all words forgotten, the shiver going through my whole body. “Use your words,” he whispered, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. “Tell me.”

“My cock, please, I-“

He caught my mouth in another kiss and undid both our belts with a practiced motion. I felt a shock of cool air on my cock, and then he was taking my cock and his own in hand and it felt so good I could have died. My hips moved of their own volition, twitching into the tight heat of his hand, and I couldn’t help the moan that broke from me.

He shuddered against me. “So eager. So responsive.”

Somehow I’d thought that sex like this, two bodies wedged against a crumbling alley where anyone could see, would be awkward. But of course Thomas wouldn’t be awkward: he must have fucked and fed on hundreds of victims in alleys; by now he had it down to muscle memory. He could play a body like a fiddle, or at least he could play mine.

God help me, but I shouldn’t have found it as hot as I did.

He held me against the wall with one hand as I fucked the other. He set the rhythm: a lazy, indolent, torturous pace that was the best kind of hell. I was a mess before long, strung out on his smell like an addict, hands knotted clumsily in the collar of his shirt. I was sobbing before long, crying, begging him to speed up- but he was implacable: he licked away my tears and drank down my pleas like they were fine wine and kept his pace despite all my cries.

He wasn't unmoved either; I could tell he was trying to be stone, or ice, or marble, but whenever a stroke landed just right and I moaned, he would stiffen against me.

He was feeding on my pleasure, some small part of me realized. He was getting off on it all: my shame, my need, my desperation. That was what tipped me over the edge: I came harder than I ever had before, the orgasm ripping through me like, violent and sharper than steel. He fucked me through it, stroke after lazy stroke, all the while whispering filth into my ear. The last thing I felt before I blacked out was him stiffen against me; the last thing I heard was my name on his lips.

Minutes or hours later I came back to myself and realized I was slumped on the ground against the alley wall. Thomas was leaning over me but I didn’t look up; I was too afraid of what I might see on his face.

At length he sighed. “Let’s get you home,” he said, leaning down to pick me up. “You’ll catch a cold out here.”

I let him lift me, too wrung out to protest. “Don’t get cold anymore,” I mumbled. “Since I’m a monster now.”

He was quiet for a moment, and I started to think he hadn't heard. But at length he let out a deep sigh. “Well. I guess that makes two of us.”


End file.
